Wowwwwwww - Tumblr Posts
Mirrah Foulkes and Leigh Whannell as Nina and Matt in Dying Breed (2008)
my out-of-corporate-job serve cunt favs would probably be attack on bangtan, ma city, 21st century girls. baepsae is an honorable mention. we won't be forgetting the hip thrusts visuals with this song. 😌
ALL I GOTTA SAY IS 1:40 IS STILL ICONIC‼️ whew honestly all of these songs go so fcking hard and baepsae is the icing on the rumpshaking cake lmfaooooo a power list!
what’s your fave/an elite consecutive 3 songs on any bts album or solo project?
Bats and Fire: The Very Beginnings
What if we took y/n (who is, in this fic, a monster researcher/hunter) being mated to a couple acotar men... then made it all the acotar men (batboys, eris, lucien)....
So this was a silly joke. Then I wrote it. Then I realized that this could be multiple parts... so welcome to:
Bats and Fire
01 - The Very Beginnings
(this is such proof that i will write anything and i'm 6x more likely to write it if its MESSY and CHAOTIC)
Warnings: none
WC: 2k
Finding out you’re mated to all the ACOTAR men would be a doozy.
At first it’s Rhys, when you make eye contact with him while on a business visit in Velaris…
“I know,” you laugh, gently nudging your friend’s shoulder. “Boo hoo, you don’t like the Night Court. But it’s beautiful. We’ve been in worse places on business.”
“That’s tru— oh my cauldron, look who it is!” She points to the back of a man walking with a tall blonde woman, and you can immediately sense the power radiating off of him. He must be who you’re looking for: the High Lord of Night.
“Yes!” you grin, tightening your grip on the jar in your hands — which holds a very menacing pixie that has been stealing magic from residents of Prythian all over. The High Lord of Autumn had commissioned its capture, and you had tracked it back to night, and well… here you were.
“Lord Rhysand!” you call out, gracefully sliding your way through the crowd. “Lord Rhysand, I must speak with you!”
Someone bumps into you, and you stumble, crashing straight into the High Lord’s chest.
“You bellowed?”
“Yes, yes— sorry, my Lord. But you see, this pixie—”
But then you look up, meeting his stunning violet-blue gaze.
You drop your jar, and it shatters on the cobblestone ground, the pixie exploding out of the rubble, trying to make a break for it. The creature is immediately surrounded by darkness, unable to make its grand escape.
“You’re…” you whisper, covering your mouth with a hand.
“…My mate.”
Cassian and Azriel came shortly after. You and Rhys got close quickly, so why wouldn’t you be introduced to his friends?
“Darling?” Rhysand says, glancing around the room, his eyes finally landing on you. “Oh, good— you’re all ready. Remember that it’s cold, so wear plenty of layers—”
You blink up at him, gesturing to the not one, not two, not three, but four layers he’s made you put on. “Rhys. I’m going to be very warm. I’ve been to the Illyrian mountains on hunting trips before and I can confirm that this is too much.”
“It’s gotten colder in recent years.”
“Sure.”
Rhys grins, kisses the side of your head, and takes your hand. “Ready? We won’t be there for two long, I just want to do a little surveillance with the camps and introduce you to my brothers while we’re there.”
With a quick nod, you’re enveloped by darkness and wind. And then it all fades, and chill air bites at your cheeks and nose.
Rhysand holds you close to his side as you trudge through the snow. You wrap your coats tighter around yourself, leaning into his warmth.
And then you feel it.
You freeze.
An electric connection stuns you, seeming to form at your heart and spread through your chest.
And then another.
You reluctantly look over your shoulder, cursing when you see them. Two tall Illyrian males, staring at you. They definitely know. And you have the gut feeling that these two males are the Cassian and Azriel that Rhys told you about.
“Ah, look, there they are,” Rhys grins, waving towards the two males, who have both started in your direction.
This is your moment: fight, flight, or freeze? Your heart pounds in your chest—they’re getting closer—and the crowd is so thick with people…
As a monster researcher and hunter, you’ve never fled once in your life.
…But now is a fantastic time to start.
“Restroom,” you blurt, and then sprint from Rhys’s side, burying yourself in the crowd of taller Fae and wings and fur coats.
You weave between the people, attempting to mask your scent, and then burst into a small corner shop. A bakery, filled with the smells of bread and pastries. Perfect to cover your trail.
You walk up to the counter, fishing out a few coppers. “Do you have anything particularly smelly?”
The baker raises a brow, his wings shifting behind him as he gives you a once-over dripping with judgment. “Excuse me?”
“Love?”
You curse under your breath at the sound of Rhys’s voice. And then you slowly turn around, finding your mate… and your other two mates.
So you face your fate.
The Illyrians were easy to love. You got to know them in a matter of weeks, but you had other jobs to attend to, and was soon in the Autumn Court, where you had to finally turn in that damned pixie to High Lord Eris…
Are you sure you feel safe there? Azriel asks down the bond. One of us can come and accompany you.
Yes, you confirm. All is well. I’m just turning in this little beast. I’ll be back before sundown.
He sent you a wave of love, paired with a sarcastic you have fun with that.
So here you are, climbing a ladder to get to the top level of the Autumn palace. It’s built like a treehouse, with ladders separating the levels unless you’re nobility or a special guest, in which case you get to use the fancy-dancy wooden staircases in the center.
But being a monster specialist is pretty damn far from nobility. So you get the ladders route.
You decide that you hate this place.
Hoisting yourself up onto the final platform, where the throne room is, you climb to your feet.
A guard gives you a dirty look, holding out a spear to stop you in your path. “Female. State your name and business.”
You say your name, and hold up the jar containing a very angry pixie. “The High Lord commissioned this pixie’s capture. Now, if you’ll let me go, this Tinkerbelle is very eager to find an escape route.”
“You didn’t give advance warning of your visit.”
“I sent word a month ago,” you snarl, baring your teeth.
His spear strikes you quicker than your Fae reflexes can react. It collides with your cheek, sending you stumbling back, blood rushing down your jaw.
“What in Prythian are you doing, Magus?” an unfamiliar male voice enters the encounter, and you immediately see boots approaching.
“She was trying to force her way in—”
“Liar,” you hiss. You wipe away the blood and face the guard once more, free hand tightening on the pixie jar. “I have proper certification, if you would just let me—”
“She’s aggressive, your majesty.”
Your majesty?
You look up at the male who had approached. You’re met with a golden-skinned male, with a scar through one eye and a whirring, mechanical eyeball. When he too looks at you, you feel the slightest… ittiest bittiest… tug.
Shit.
His jaw drops, long ginger hair falling over his shoulder. “You’re…”
The doors to the throne room swing open, revealing a male that looks like your newfound fourth mate. But he’s wearing a crown, so he must be the High Lord that you came for.
And when his stunning copper eyes turn to you, it happens.
For the fifth time.
“Nope,” you say, throwing the jar in High Lord Eris’s direction. “Nope. Not again. Not doing this.”
With that, you turn on your heel, starting back towards the ladder.
“Wait,” the first male jumps in front of you, eyes glimmering. “You’re… you’re my mate.”
“What do you mean?” Eris jumps in, stepping into view and rapidly approaching. “She’s my mate.”
“See, so there’s this phenomenon,” you start, gritting your teeth. “I already have three mates. I don’t feel the need for another two. The Mother is cruel and she thinks that building me a harem is great entertainment. But you two are officially out. Capishe?”
The two males looked at eachother, and then back to you—
But you were gone.
We have an issue, you stated down the bond to your Illyrian mates.
You knew that blocking out two mates would not work. And it didn’t. They sent you flowers and gifts, and... oh, the gifts... such expensive and exquisite things... for weeks, until you caved… and called a meeting for all of your mates.
You sit in silence at The House of Wind’s dining table, monitoring the males’ expressions. They're all glaring at each other. The Mother definitely could have given you a less… volatile… group.
“Okay,” you start, scratching the back of your neck. “So… I think this is it.”
“I’d like to put it on the record that you said you were sure we were all last time,” Cassian grits out, wings rigid at his back.
“This is different. Now, we need to go over rules, boundaries… anything that comes to mind?”
“Separated court times,” Lucien starts, seeming rather open to the situation. “Eris and I manage the Autumn Court, and these three are always in Night, so it makes sense to do a week-on, week-off schedule.”
“Her work requires her to travel,” Azriel joins in, twirling Truth-Teller in his hand. “You couldn’t expect her to just stay in your court for a week at a time.”
“Of course he didn’t mean that,” Eris snarls, ear twitching. “He meant during her off time.”
“I could—” you try to join in, but it doesn’t really work out for you.
“I plan on making her my High Lady, which she has already agreed to,” Rhysand growls. “So she’ll be spending a lot of time in the Night Court.”
Cassian nods, joining in. “And we don’t want her to give up her passions. Which seems to be what you want. So she’ll be either at the Night Court or traveling. You two can… visit… her.”
“I really wouldn’t mind—”
“And what if I want her to be my High Lady?” Eris stands, lips pulling back as he faces Rhys. “Perhaps she’d prefer to reside in a more respectable court than Night.”
That prompts both Azriel and Cassian to stand, growling and wings flaring. “You’re a piece of scum and she does not deserve to be tied to the likes of you,” Azriel responds, bitterness and anger dripping in his tone.
“Have you lost all your dignity?” Lucien shoots to his feet too, and Rhys follows suit.
They start yelling. And arguing. And every time you try to cut in, they ignore you.
So you conjure up something that should get their attention.
“Contraceptive brews!” you shout, throwing your arms in the air.
Sure enough, the males go silent, turning to look at you.
“Sit down.”
And they all do.
Like puppies taking a command.
“Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel and I have all agreed that the males take the contraceptive brews. I have a rigorous travel schedule that often includes random overnights in the woods or mountains while hunting or researching, so I don’t always have access to them,” you explain, gesturing to the Illyrians.
Eris raises a brow. “Wouldn’t it make sense for you to just carry it with you rather than all five of us taking—”
“Drink the brew or you don’t get it,” Cassian growls, making a lewd gesture.
“New rule. No more fighting. It’s overwhelming and stupid.” you announce, taking the ribbon out of your hair and putting it in the middle of the table. “This is the Talking Ribbon. When you want to talk, you must have the ribbon. Else you shut the fuck up.”
“That is your—”
“Rhys. Talking Ribbon.”
Rhys obediently takes the ribbon, then tries speaking again. “This is your favorite ribbon. I wouldn’t risk this being used… it could get torn.”
Lucien takes the ribbon gingerly, and then faces you. “Then we will not tear the ribbon. Right, everyone?”
The males all nod.
You sigh, and then gesture around the group. “My time will be spent as I please. Now, I think I’ve been here for as long as I need to, so you five can work out the details on your own.” You stand, and walk away from the table.
“Love,” Rhys calls after you. “Love, I think that maybe we would benefit from your presence—”
“I can’t always be your mediator. I have a Wyrm to hunt. Good night.”
And you leave the males to grumble amongst each other.
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Read 02 HERE